


Red Roses

by That_One_Fan_Girl



Series: She-ra fics [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: (Or is it?), Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Ballroom Dancing, Blood and Violence, Dancing, Drinking, Enemy Lovers, F/F, Flirting, Forbidden Love, Girls Kissing, Girls with Guns, Smoking, Spies & Secret Agents, Tragic Romance, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 09:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24468448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_One_Fan_Girl/pseuds/That_One_Fan_Girl
Summary: The night is lonely, never allowed to see her lover, the bright win that warms the skin and allows bright sunny days. Only at sunset and sunrise are they able to meet and kiss one another for a moment.I like to think I am the night.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: She-ra fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773037
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Red Roses

The night is cold. Nights are always cold. Even in the middle of summer, on the hottest day imaginable, at some point in the hours of darkness, it's cold. The sky is dark as denim. Stars and the large and lonely moon are hidden by the wispy curtains that are clouds. The night is lonely, never allowed to see her lover, the bright win that warms the skin and allows bright sunny days. Only at sunset and sunrise are they able to meet and kiss one another for a moment. 

I like to think I am the night. 

I take a slow sip from my glass. Red wine slides down my throat. The wine swirls in the burgundy glass-like blood being swallowed down the drain. Spinning and spinning until it's nothing more than sloshing red waves trapped in glass. 

I watch lovers waltzes in the garden of tall rose hedges and stony pebble paths. I watch lovers kiss by the center fountain, a single woman with her arm raised above her head as if to shield herself from the sun’s glaring eyes. 

I slick back my pixie cut, my palm lingering at my neck, rubbing up and down my nape. My fingers graze against the collar of my suit. A tight fit white suit with a gold pin on my left breast. The pin hides an USB inside. What better place to hide something then within plain sight. I’m supposed to give this pin to an agent under the code name Shadow Weaver. It’s records and files full of every agent from the last five years. 

I take a final sip from my glass and toss it to the pavement below for it to be shattered. I’m not worried about the mess, a server will take care of it. 

I walk back into the warmth of bodies. Dancing bodies of white suits and dresses. A sea of assassins dressed in white. The purest of colours, of shades when clearly they are all bloody and black. I am pretending to be purely dressed in all white, and so are they.

The piano’s voice sings alongside the women’s voice. A perfectly delicate accompaniment of grace. 

I didn’t notice her before, but I know who she is. 

She’s a single drop of blood in a fresh pile of snow.

Her hair is gold like the sun, pure shining. Her dress long dress with a low cut back that cling to her makes her look like a burning candle that will never drip. Her lips are dark with red, bright and red, kissable. 

She’s the only colour of truth in a sea of white and lies. While we are bright, she stands out like a rose. A rose with thorns and refuses to be plucked from the wild garden. While I am groomed and pruned, and ready to be plucked from my garden, my thorns have lost the prick to them, she is only becoming sharper. 

I want to be a red rose, I want to be the sun and not the moon. But she is my sun, and I the moon. 

I still want to kiss her. 

I want her golden thread for hair in-between my fingers, her deep-sea blue eyes on mine and her body pressed flat against mine as our lips press together. I want her pressed against me again. 

Her words are like angels whispering in my ear. I can't keep my eyes off her. Her words are slow and carefully spoken.

  
_”Watch your head love,_

_Don't you drown,_

Come to me,

_My sweet bumblebee.”_

_”Love me dearly,_

_Kill me slowly,_

_Watch your head love,_

_Before I cute your heart.”  
_

_”I want your lips,  
_

_Bloody and red,  
_

_Watch your head love,  
_

_Before you drown.”_  
  


”Adora, ” I whisper. 

I haven't seen her since she left me almost dead and bloody on a highway and never looked back. 

I still remember the heavy-hitting rain against the road, blood-caked onto my face as I can barely scream out for her. 

She's still so beautiful. 

Her eyes are artic blue. They shimmer in the gold of the ballroom decor. 

She’s staring at me. 

_”I want you dead,_

_I want your blood,_

_Watch your head love,_

_Before you drown.”_

Her song ends and the piano is silenced. She takes her bow and exists steps down to join the party. The only stain of red in a sea of white petals.   
  
She steps lightly to me, and I'm reminded how bright she is.   
  
She is the sun. 

”Care for a dance?” she asks. Her smile is gentle and voice is just above a whisper. The first world she's spoken to me in years. 

And I take her hand.

She pulls me along to the center of the ballroom dance floor. She leads our dance. 

A slow waltz just for the two of us to share. The people are blown away like dust. I can only focus on the sun, pulled to her and following her lead as I used to. 

She is always the leader of our dance. 

Her hand slides up my arm, cupping the back of my head and combs my hair. ”I love your hair, ” she says softly. Her fingers linger too long at the tips of my hair. 

Her hair is long and gold like a dancing flame that will never die. It's pulled back into a ponytail with a dozen diamond stud hairclip in the side of her head. 

”You’re still as gorgeous as ever, ” I say. 

She chuckles slightly. It's the first time I've seen her smile in so long. 

”Why did you leave me?” I blurt out softly. 

Her smile drops and she pulls away from my grasp. I pull her back with a gentle hand. I don't want to let her go. 

”I need a cigarette, ” she says. She grabs a cigarette from a golden tray by a passing waiter. She reaches for the slip in her dress a pulls out a match from her holster and strikes it. 

”I didn't know you smoked, ” I note.

She doesn't seem to want to talk about it. Well, I can't force her to talk. She has to have a reason why she left me that day.

She breathes out a stream of smoke and grabs my hand, our fingers intertwining. She smiles, ”of course you didn't, ” she jokes, her smile softens and her eyes are warm. She hasn't looked at me this way in a long time. ”I really missed you Catra, ” she says. 

I can’t contain my joy, the grin on my face is hard to hide. I squeeze her hand, she squeezes back.

”What are you doing now?” 

She pulls my arm up with hers and spins around with a big grin on her face. ”I’m doing this, ” she says. ”I sing at parties now. I sing like a songbird for people who wish to hear, and if I'm lucky, I'll take home a man or women and have my fun.”   
  
I don't like knowing she's slept with others after me.

I see her lips, blood-red, marking up the skin of a man’s chest. I can hear her moans as she presses her breasts against her female lover. I hate that she's free. Kissing strangers that should make her dirty, but she only seems brighter than I once saw her. When she left me to die, she was a fleeting sunset. She's brighter now, I hate it, but I love seeing her. 

”As you can see, I'm still working here.”

She stops twirling, her hand is still tight in mine. 

”You should have come with me, ” Adora says. 

”You know I couldn't, ” I say.   
  
She frowns and doesn't speak. She takes a puff from the cigarette. 

”I know.” 

We walk through the garden. It's dark and tall hedges of roses. White roses. Her hand is in mine, our fingers pressing into each other’s hand. 

I didn't think I'd be walking here tonight. I thought I'd be mingling and drinking wine until the night grows so old that day is nearly born again.

I feel my chest tighten and my face feels hot in a good way. My head hurts in a good way too. I love this feeling of suffocation, always wanting to breathe but never able to catch a breath of fresh cold air. I missed the pounding of my heart and head when I'm near her again. 

I stop. 

I want to kiss her. I want her to stain me red with her lips. I want to be red like her.

I take her hand, already in mine and press it to my lips. Her hand is so soft against my lips, I carefully kiss her skin, treasuring every kiss. My other hand slides down her waist and rests on her lower back. I take my lips and press them to her mouth. I close my eyes to truly feel the press of her warm mouth against mine and the slip of her tongue trying to slither down my throat. 

Adora’s hand combs through my hair as she pushes her lips against mine. Our mouths fight to take control, a slow and pasted battle between our lips and the gentle push of our tongues. 

I missed kissing her so sweetly. 

We pull apart, and my eyes open, I feel a sharp pain in my neck as if I'm being pricked. Tears are welling in Adora’s eyes. 

I feel dizzy. 

I slowly turn my head. It should be a simple task but my head is pounding and vision black and spotting. Adora is holding a needle to my needle to my neck. 

”Adora?” I whisper. 

”I’m sorry, ” she whispers. 

I want to wipe away her tears and hold her close to me. I want to kiss those tears away. 

She's still so bright even as the world goes dark. 

I wake to cold. 

Sitting in a chair with my hands tied behind my back. My clothes are ruffled as if someone had searched through my clothes. 

I try to teeter in the chair, but it’s bolted to the ground. I yank on the retrains but I can’t budge. I’m breathing heavy, trying to get something to budge. 

“What the fuck,” I mutter, collapsing back in the chair. 

I hear the door open behind me.

I stiffen.

“What should I do with her?” I hear Adora’s voice whisper behind me. I turn best I can but I can’t see her. She’s quiet in the sense she isn’t talking, but the click of her heels as she paces back and forth is haunting.

I should have known. 

There is no way she would have come back for nothing more then to steal something. Once a spy always a spy. I shut my eyes, trying to stop the sting of my eyes and tears rolling down my face. Of course she didn’t want to see me. 

“I understand,” she says calmly, too softly. 

I hear her heels click over to me. She sighs, noticing I’m awake. 

“Oh my god, you weren’t supposed to be awake,” she says, more to herself. She covers her face and stumbles back. “Shit,” she whispers. She covers her mouth as if she was shocked. 

I note the gun she’s holding. Her red dress still bright in the dark atmospheric setting of the musky concrete room.

“I’m not supposed to be awake?” I taunt back.   
  
“Catra, I am so sorry,” Adora says.

“Why did I ever trust you!” I yell. I try to pull on the restraints but they won’t budge. 

“Catra, this is my job,” she says. 

“Then kill me already,” I demand. 

She pulls out her gun and aims it at my forehead. Her hand is trembling slightly and her years are tearing up. 

“Please close your eyes,” she says softly,” Don’t look at me that way.”   
  
I know I’m going to die. 

My heart is racing and my head pounding. “Fine,” I say softly. I close my eyes. I’m trembling. 

I wait for a moment. Nothing. 

I feel her lips press against mine. I feel her hot tears rub against my cheek and her lips move against my own. I can’t help but kiss back. 

I can feel my chest tighten further and my head clear. 

I open my eyes. 

“Adora—“


End file.
